


Root's shirt

by 29PheonixLement



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/29PheonixLement/pseuds/29PheonixLement
Summary: Another of my POI one-shots. Shap shot of a pre-Sameritian downfall moment of Root & Shaw
Relationships: Bear & Root | Samantha Groves, Bear & Sameen Shaw, Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw, Sameen Shaw & The Machine, The Machine & Root | Samantha Groves
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Root's shirt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping this morning.

“Dammit Root.” Shaw growls under her breath tossing the covers off and grabbing the first shirt from the floor that came to hand as the Machine relays coordinates to the waking Marine for the latest location of her once again endangered ‘Analog Interface’.  
It was strange, to say the least how the soft feel of the gray cotton of the fabric and the lingering scent of gunpowder and apples clinging to the collar soothes some of the rushing Psychopath’s mood for a few felting seconds as she slams a fresh clip into her weapon before sliding it into the waistband of her pants and clicks her tongue for Bear to follow her to the door of their latest safehouse.   
“That is one of Analog Interface’s favored garments are you sure it is the one—” The Machine starts to point out but pauses at Shaw’s death glare over at the webcam.   
“Shut up about my fashion choices and get me the fastest route so I can go get her sorry ass.” She orders picking up Bear’s leash before the door swings closed. The last thing she needed was some annoying cop scolding her about leash laws during her newest ‘rescue of Root’. 

“Humm hey big guy.” Root purrs as Bear’s wet tongue licked at what seemed to be the only unmarked patch of skin on her face as she watches thought unfocused eyes as Shaw finished knocking out the last of the Samaritan lackies that had been tasking with guarding her.   
“You let yourself get captured again.” Shaw growled tugging Root’s arm over her own shoulders as she halls the taller woman to her unsteady feet while Bear paces in front of them heckles up and teeth bared as he watches the door.   
“I knew you’d come for me.” Root smiled but the deep cut to her lip and the blood staining her teeth along with the already forming bruises littering her face lessened the sight of Shaw felt anything akin to happiness at seeing the hacker smile.  
Which she didn’t.  
She merely tolerates them when they appear on the taller woman’s lips and maybe yes Shaw does occasionally do little things to earn one from time to time just to prove that Root hadn’t been turned into a robot as well spending all her time on a laptop.   
“Whatever Root.” Shaw fires back as she redoubles her grip on the arm of the hacker who the axis two personality disorder diagnosed has allowed to share her bed both with and without the added use black hoods and plastic zip ties.   
“You’re wearing my shirt.” Root slurs and Shaw is already adding blood loss to her catalog of injuries Root had sustained in her latest idea of service to her Robot Overlord.   
“The first one I grabbed,” Shaw grumbles shouldering open the door toward the stairs when the Machine warns about more agent’s coming up the elevator despite her attempt to stall them.   
“Looks good.” The dazed hacker promises her head now nestled against the toned expanse of the shorter woman’s shoulder as they staggered there way down the stairs.   
A grim-faced Reese is waiting outside when they make their exit. The car idling by the curb its backseat passenger door open while the man himself keeps a lookout from the front seat.   
“Finch didn’t say you brought the dog.”  
Shaw rolls her eyes as together the pair manhandle an unconscious Root into the backseat while Bear jumps in after her curing up in the floorboards as close to the seat as he could get.   
“Boss already has glasses setting up a transfusion back at base.” The big luge relays as Shaw peels away at breakneck speed. “It’s that Root’s shirt?” he adds casting a sideways glance at the pissed off Persian behind the wheel.   
Shaw's only answer is taking a turn faster than she should have causing her passenger to bang the side of his head against the window before he could brace. “Just make sure Root stays alive so I can kick her ass later.” 

“That is Miss Grov—"  
Reese shakes his head causing Finch to quickly drop the subject as the ‘Mayhem twins’ finish settling their unconscious hacker onto the cot Herold had set up on the Machine’s worried orders.   
“Something the matter with your head Mr. Reese?” the bespectacled man wonders instead seeing the way the taller man was cradling the right side of his head where a bruise was starting to form under his hand.   
“Got any ice around here?”  
Shaw rolls her eyes muttering a grumbled “big baby.” Under her breath, as she stomps over toward the weapons locker to grab her gun cleaning kit Root had gifted her last week. If she was stuck babysitting the recovering woman she might as well so something that resembled ‘fun’   
It’s only later on when she’d given up trying to scrub the blood out using only the cheap soap probably stollen from a nearby hotel that Shaw finally realizes what shirt everyone was going on about.   
‘They Exist’   
“A replacement has already been ordered.”   
Shaw doesn’t seem to flinch at the monotone voice filing her right ear has she raises her head to glare at her own refection then turns around to turn her annoyed gaze on the closest webcam.   
“Thanks,” Shaw answers her voice stiff as she leaves the lost cause of a shirt sitting in the sink as she crosses over to the occupied cot in the corner of the subway alcove.  
Bear doesn’t lift his head, but his tail doesn’t thump against the mattress a few times at her approach.   
The cold sting of the concrete wall bits into her skin over the protective cover of her tank top as Shaw slides down it until she was sitting cross-legged in the closest available space beside Root’s makeshift hospital bed.   
“Might want to order a couple of extras of that shirt,” Shaw says knowing that even when she dropped her voice the Machine could still hear her. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be the last time that shirt will be collateral damage.”   
“I’ll make a note of it Agent Shaw.”


End file.
